Blind Endeavours Part 6&7- Nocturne in C Sharp Minor & Gnossienne No1
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Part 6: Separation, imminent death,moving on, and a lonely wedding. Part 7: Another Wedding.
1. Heartbreak

** Alright everyone! So here's the deal- there's going to be only 5 chapters per part 6, 7 & 8. They're going to be shorter as are the chapters for them, so it's like I said in the last chapter- we're going to be moving along quite quickly! Accompanying materials for this part are in my profile including the beautiful poster and link to the musical piece. **

**I REALLY DO RECCOMEND LISTENING TO IT! It's SO incredibly beautiful and will give you insight into what this part is going to feel like...***

**Thank you to: CS, korrinabean1, HC, ciao, sailormajinmoon, IKhandoZatman, Gwilwillith, Guest, and Mareska for your comments as well as the messaged I received on my tumblr and in my email :) I love you all, you're so fantastic, bless. **

**This story is going to be a little different for a while… **

* * *

Madeline groaned as she fell back into the chair. Poor Mia had no idea. No idea that these games of "Holmes and Watson" as she liked to call them- were taking a toll on poor Madeline. But it wasn't Mia's fault that her dad's had been reading John Watson's blogs to her as bedtime stories and failed to mention that Madeline had actually lived with them for a good portion of time. All Mia knew was that she liked the detective in the funny hat and the one with all the jumpers.

_"Aunty Maddie- please come be Watson! Pleeeeaasssee!"_ Mia had begged with her large deerstalker hanging over her big brown eyes. Madeline found she couldn't say no to her niece regarding anything. From the moment she met her at the airport since landing back in Louisville, Madeline had fallen in love with her. She called her Aunt Maddie and Madeline didn't care- she liked the sound of her nickname coming from that small sweet voice. She took bites out of Madeline's desserts all the time and Madeline didn't mind one bit. In fact, Mia had been a fantastic distraction for Madeline… until play time came.

Michael and Alex had looked at Madeline sheepishly when Mia had told her how every night she'd hear about a new adventure for '_Sherly and Johnny'_ that her dads would read to her. And her insistence on them going around playing to solve adventures. So Madeline relucted. And she put the jumpers on because apparently, according to Mia- she was _too nice _to play Sherly Holmes.

Mia had no idea how right she was.

"Come along now, Mia," Alex said coming into the living room, pulling the little girl away from Madeline who sat in the lovechair, too tired to move, "Let's go get some ice-cream, Hm?"

"Ice-cream! Ice-cream! Ice-cream!" Mia shouted, jumping up and down as they went into the kitchen, magically forgetting entirely about the game she just wanted to play.

Madeline sat in darkened silence. It had been a month- one whole month away from 221b. She'd been in this position before- but at least the last time she had been back she was still quite certain Sherlock Holmes didn't have feelings for her. This time around, coming back to Colorado and having experienced dating Sherlock and knowing that he felt something, made it all the more harder.

That wasn't the only change. John, Mary, Greg, Molly, and even Mrs. Husdon (who'd finally learned how to text properly) had been keeping in touch with Madeline through text. Updating her on their lives, asking about her. Never a mention of Sherlock, of course. They didn't need to make it any harder than it was, but their commentary and pleasant pictures had kept Madeline happy from time to time even if the nostalgia hit harder than ever before. They'd all become her closest friends and now she had to die without them.

Well, they hadn't mentioned Sherlock in their texts…. Except for today. On this particular day, the one in which she spent the majority of it sitting hunched back in the loveseat, staring out the window like a vegetable- John had messaged her about Sherlock. It only took him a month before losing his cool. Of course he, just like everyone else, believed that Madeline made the decision for herself to leave London, to live the life Sherlock couldn't give her before she died. None of them really knowing she left for him, to save him from himself. So she couldn't blame John when he text her:

_'He's shot up the wall today. Mrs. Hudson's been yelling non-stop. Sometimes I regret moving in next door.' _

Or when he wrote:

_'He keeps staring at the fridge with a look of confusion on his face. I think he got used to seeing it packed full of food for so long.' _

But when he wrote:

_'I really think he'd marry you if you asked.  
…you shouldn't have left.' _

Those words stung. Not that she could blame John Watson, she knew how she came off. It was the decision she'd made to save Sherlock some scrutiny for needing to be away from her and release attachment in order to get through her death without self-destructing.

But that text was damning. John texted an hour later.

_I'm sorry. That's out of line._

_It's okay._ Madeline wrote back. He didn't know. He didn't understand. This was her and Sherlock's own world, and she was just feeling herself out of it right then. _Christ_, she missed him.

Every bit of him, every inch of him. Madeline wished she would have had him at least once. His body pale, smooth, warm, surrounding hers... she wondered what those lips would feel like against her neck, what Sherlock's face looked like when he was being touched and pleasured. What his large hands would look like cupping her-

_Snap out of it, Madeline._ She chastised herself. _Get him out of your head, it's over. It's done. You're never going to see him again, be with him, kiss him- or even smell him or touch him. ...No point in reminiscing. _

Madeline wondered right then if he was thinking of her. If he missed her like she missed him. She really had no idea if he was as attached to her as she was to him or if he was no where near there. Sherlock had never let on about how much she meant to him- if it was a little to a lot. All she knew was that he did. No amount given. And she didn't know how intense his feelings were towards her- or even if they were intense at all. Again, all she knew was that he had them. No amount given.

She almost resented how hard she had fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes. Madeline knew her amounts of attachment to him and her amounts of feelings towards him had excelled anything she even believed was possible for herself. For someone who had fallen in love in her life and had felt nothing but a resignation to run away had been more than shocked when this cold faced detective managed to hit the spot with her.

It was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't noticing... the look in his eyes as if he was trying to read her but couldn't. Madeline loved the feeling she had when she was around him. She felt challenged, safe, warm, and finally alive. He was exciting even when he was sedentary. She once spend a whole three hours watching him polish and re-string his violin and it had been more interesting than any film she'd ever watched. He was the most interesting man in the world to her, and the fact that he had wanted her in return... it took her breath away.

He once watched her prepare by breaking in her pointe shoes with a hammer for a good 2 hours in absolute silence. She sat on the floor before him and he sat in his chair with his fingers steepled as he watched her hammer in the pointes with fascination.

No words had been spoken, yet Madeline had never felt so comforted and full by ones presence.

And now, as she sat alone, the emptiness consumed her.

She'd left them all behind, all of her friends- her family that she'd created in London. Here Michael and Alex had created their own as well, and they had been so welcoming and inviting to her. ...But she couldn't disregard how much she missed them.

How much she missed _him._

John was right, it didn't really matter if she knew where the documents were anymore.

The target was on her heart to get to them, he'd said, and that was that.

The locket that lay around her neck felt heavy, Madeline only hoped that whoever took the shot wouldn't ruin her necklace at the very least. It was a silly hope, to be sure, but the thought of her parents last strife to keep her alive to be lost in being while simultaneously shattering their gift to her in absolute irony- seemed cruel. She remembered Sherlock's words when she'd been in the hospital all those years ago-

_"Your necklace, Madeline. What does it say?" Sherlock pressed again._

_"To Madeline Smelting," She recited again, wiping her cheeks, "Our lovely heart."_

_"What an interesting phrasing of words… Our lovely heart." Sherlock repeated. "Strange phrasing, isn't it? You exist as their heart… their one connection left to this world. Once their heart stops beating, then their connection is lost, is it not?"_

He was always talking in riddles.

Madeline traced the locket with her fingertip. It was the only thing she had left from her parents… biological ones at least. Sighing she leaned back further into the chair, the front of her shirt riding down.

"Op!" Madeline snorted with a mumble, pulling it up, "don't want the girls fall…"

That was strange. Or, at least her scar looked strange to her. She almost never noticed it, she'd had it on her chest for as long as she could remember… heart complications from when she was a child. She couldn't remember.

Quickly Madeline sat up straight, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she didn't know why. She could hear it in her hears, the blood pulsating through her veins at a rapid thick pace-

_"There." Sherlock declared as he pulled out the shrapnel from the cavity with a smile. "Murder." _

_"What's that?" Madeline was suddenly curious as she eyes the little white metal plate.  
"Information." Sherlock said pacing it in a ziplock bag, "A very old trick."_

"Oh my god…" Madeline breathed heavily, clutching her hand to her chest.

_Hidden in plain sight. Well, sort of. _

_She has to die for them to get to them…._

"…Madeline?" Michael said with worry as he came down the stairs, eyeing her. "Are you okay?"

"It's…" Madeline gasped, her eyes blurred and the room shifted, "It's…."

But she didn't finish her sentence as Michael caught her just as she passed out of her chair with only one thought on her mind-

_Heart. _

* * *

**Freaking finally she gets it, am I right? Poor Madeline, nothing's ever that great for her is it :/ **


	2. Hiding the Demons

**awww yuuusss next chapter. Already. **

* * *

Sherlock didn't even attempt to hide his broodiness. He'd kept a kind demeanor going during the planning and execution of the wedding (John hated that Sherlock used that word to describe it). And even as John and Mary went on their '_sex-cation_' as Sherlock liked to call it, he'd seemed fine- well when they left, at least. But by the time the Watsons had returned- Sherlock Holmes had officially allowed himself to fully divulge into despair.

He didn't take a case. Not one case. He instead resigned himself to absolute solitude. Once John had returned, he'd attempted to 'run' Sherlock, but it seemed there wasn't a case above a five. Even the recent news of Moran escaping from the prison with the highest security in all of England hadn't gotten much a reaction out of Sherlock. '_Not my concern. Just another name on a long list of people wanting to get those documents.' _He'd said. It was to be expected, it seemed. John supposed it was bound to happen, but watching the pieces move towards Madeline bit by bit and knowing what was going to happen didn't make it any easier to watch. And John already knew how hard it was for him to watch- he couldn't imagine what Sherlock must have felt. And of course the man hid it well.

"Come on, Sherlock…" John sighed, sitting across from his friend in the dusty flat. He and Mary had been out looking at flats all day and hadn't found one to their liking that was within budget as well as being within distance to 221b. Neither of them wanted to chance being too far from Sherlock during such a difficult time. Or any time really. John had no intention of leaving his work with Sherlock, but it seemed Sherlock found less interest in it and more interest in his own self-pity. "I got a text from her last night…"

"Hmm…" Sherlock replied sarcastically, "Out of the millions she's been sending you lot-"

"Well you haven't text her either."

"For obvious reasons..."

"Right. Well, then no complaining. Anyways, she said she knows where the documents are. She found out they're in her chest cavity."

"Wow, congratulations." He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "It only took her four years. And look at the difference it makes. Hurrah."

"Wow, have you gone completely rotten on the inside?" John said impatiently, "All I get from you is depressing sarcastic quips."

"Oh I'm sorry- is that different than usual?" Sherlock mocked, uncrossing his legs and walking to the window.

"See!" John pointed his finger at him, "That. That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"Don't you have a wife to get to?"

"Sherlock…" John sighed, "We would have invited Madeline to the wedding, but it's not like she could have come."

"Of course she couldn't have." Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly, as if this were any old topic. If the detective was going through some sort of pain- which he must have been for the love of his life was in the worst position possible looking at the end of a barrel of a gun half way around the world to spend the rest of her shortened life with another man- but Sherlock hid it well. Of course. "Anyways, it's best she left when she did. It at the very least exempted me from a week of her menses which were coming up."

It didn't take much to make John Watson speechless, but it took very particular comments to catch him off guard. "I'm… I'm sorry- menses? You…"

"Yes, John, I kept track of her menstrual cycle." Sherlock said with exasperation, as if this was an obvious fact, "How do you think I knew when to re-stock the cupboards with candy and when to avoid arguments with her?"

"Alright, I just don't even- I don't even know what to say to that." John shook his head, not wanting to know any more regarding the topic. "Please, subject change."

"Gladly. How's the flat-hunt going?"

"It's alright."

"Don't lie, it's a disaster." Sherlock turned with a smile, obviously pleased at his friends struggle. "It's a shame, really."

"Is that so?" John watched Sherlock take off his robe, revealing a well-tailored and rather expensive suit. "Because, you seem rather pleased about it."

"You will be too!" Sherlock said brightly, a frightening smile on his face.

"…okay, what's going on? You're smiling and you're freaking me out a bit Sherlock."

"While you and Mary were on your sex holiday-"

"Honeymoon."

"I haven't been idle."

John raised his eyebrows nervously, "Really?" Whatever had caused Sherlock to take his attention away from pining at Madeline couldn't have been good. "Thought you were just you know, focusing on-"

"Don't be foolish John, I'm not the lovesick type." He spat the words with a roll of his eyes. Hiding well, yet again? "I've been attending."

"Uhm… to what, exactly?"

John's nerves jumped at the sound of the doorbell matched with Sherlock's smile.

"Ah!" He ushered John up out of his chair, making their way downstairs, "Right on time."

Opening the door wide, Sherlock smiled at the woman who looked between both men with a light smirk.

"Mary?"

"Hello, love." She smiled, "We're off to see another flat I believe?" She eyed Sherlock curiously who gave a nod and shut the front door behind him.

"Oh, so you're going into real-estate now, is it?" John teased, now no longer worried. If anything, he trusted his friend to know his tastes in a flat to the _T_.

"Shall we be off?"

"Yeah, I'm holding the taxi." Mary smiled, Sherlock looked at her curiously as they were already ahead of him headed to the back of the taxi. "Sherlock, aren't you coming?"

"I'll walk." He announced before bending forwards to the driver and giving the address. Smiling at the couple in the back who looked at him with confusion, Sherlock waved. "See you soon."

Mary and John watched as Sherlock's still figure was getting farther from them, well- three feet farther. The taxi pulled back and in half a second it stopped.

"At our destination." The driver announced.

Taking two clever strides, Sherlock opened the door for the couple who looked at him confusedly as they stood in front of 221A. The flat directly to the left of 221B.

"Seriously, Sherlock?" John said pointedly, Sherlock looked innocently at John's inquiry. "What happened to the nice family that lived next door?"

"The father may or may not have been promoted and had to move to the other side of London."

"Well, good to know Mycroft is putting his powers to good use." Mary snorted as she paid the cabbie before he sped away.

Sherlock shrugged, "I should have him feel sorry for me more often than not, he does almost anything I want when he does."

"Great," John nodded, "Good to know that if we take this flat- it'll have been the cause of corrupt use of government power, bribery, and manipulation."

Sherlock spoke contently at John's comment, "Wait till you see what it looks like inside."

* * *

John was surprised- apparently Sherlock had ventured into real estate- because he had his real estate license. '_Got it this past week._' He said casually as he showed them the master bedroom and bath. And he must've learned how to become a salesman this past week because boy, was he selling it. Not that John and Mary needed any excuse other than the fact that it was within budget and right next to 221b- they knew those reasons alone ensured they would take it. But Sherlock clearly hadn't seen that as he continued on, giving a grand explanation for each room until finally reaching back to the living room after twenty minutes of a tour so grand in words that Buckingham Palace could have hired Sherlock by the end. Mary and John waited patiently as Sherlock finished his speech, hands behind his back with a closed smile on his face.

Mary and John had known they would take it, even though they hadn't said a word they looked at each other for a moment- both trying to hide their smiles. He really had tried quite hard to sell them on it. "So?"

"Sherlock…" Mary smiled at him sweetly, about ready to tell him he needn't have gone through all of that- but clearly he'd prepared for this, he'd written those speeches and rehearsed them to get them right just for each room in order to entice them to buy it. It was an act that touched both Mary and, especially, John, who looked at his best friend silently moved. She decided against it, and instead opted to congratulate his effort. "You sold it. It's perfect, really. Everything from the white walls-"

"Eggshell."

"To the plant boxes outside the window-"

"Had the bush cut down next door to bring in more sun."

"It's perfect, Sherlock." Mary smiled, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze for a moment. "We'll take it."

Sherlock looked silently from Mary to John, awaiting his reply. It took a moment for John to realize that Sherlock was indeed, waiting for his reply as if he would say anything different.

_How could he even think that?_

"Wha- Yeah, Sherlock, it's done, where do we sign?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, John could have sworn he saw a look of relief pass over his face and replied, "Tomorrow you can start moving in and you can sign then; Mrs. Hudson, your landlady, will have the papers for you then."

"Oh John," Mary beamed turning to her husband, gathering all of his attention, "It's perfect! A place of our own- finally, can you believe it!"

"We'll have to get a little tag for our postbox saying Watsons, eh?" John smiled as she jumped in his arms to celebrate their first home as a married couple. "Oh hey Sherlo-" But he was no where to be found. "…Sherlock?"

Mary pulled away from John as they looked around, the front door was left open and the sound of the one at 221b could be heard closing. The only thing left John could think of was what Mary voiced softly.

"Oh dear…"

* * *

**Bby ;(**


	3. Past, Present, Future

**Sorry its taken so long! I've decided to write the rest of the chapters in this part in one go since next week I'll be out of town and I won't have time to write, so they should be up sooner rather than later. **

**Thank you to those of you who commented and sent me messages on tumblr! You've really pushed me to get through this chapter which has been hard for me to write because- well, you'll see. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

The weeks went by and life in London seemed like a distant memory. There were moments that Madeline even forgot why she was back in Louisville- but then again the scar over her chest served as a reminder. Obviously there was no way to get it out, having it been put in her chest cavity when she was young there was no doubt it was now surrounded by muscles that had grown overtime.

So Madeline had to pass the time. She was lucky enough to dance for a company in Boulder to give her some sense of normalcy, but the thought of her impending death stayed as an ever-present reminder to her loneliness. It was after yet another dinner that Madeline chose to skip in favour of sitting in her room and hiding under her covers wearing Sherlock's scarf that Michael knew enough was enough.

"Poor girl, let her mourn, Michael." Alex pushed after they'd put Mia to bed. "It's sweet. She wears his scarf around like she still hopes something will happen and I bet you that oaf is being his old broody self back in London-"

"I get what you're saying but she has no time!" Michael replied sadly. "We know where they are and we know it's only a matter of time before people realize she's not in London anymore and she's back here. She came back here to finish off her life in a nice way- a _good _way where she could at _least_ have a little bit of her dreams come true… sitting up there in her room thinking about that delicious detective is not one of them."

"So what are you going to do exactly? Hm?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"She's going out tonight with us… whether she likes it or not."

* * *

"Hey do you think they serve mozzarella sticks here?" Madeline asked chewing her bottom lip once they were seated at the brewpub.

"Oh for gods sake, Madeline," Michael groaned eyeing his sisters attire of jeans and a sweatshirt, "_try _and be attractive?"

"I'm plenty attractive!" Madeline countered offended matting her ratty hair down with her sleeves.

"Alright, what should we drink?" Alex asked trying to keep the peace between the bickering siblings.

"Apple juice!"

"She means hard cider." Michael groaned.

"Alright, I'll go get us a pitcher."

Both Smith's smiled at Alex watching him walk away; the moment he wasn't in earshot the two siblings went at it in harsh whispers, fighting like dogs.

"I don't know why you're pushing this Mike-"

"It's time to move on-"

"What you think I don't know that?"

"No I don't think you do!"

"Yes I do-"

"No you're putting in such little effort it's incredible- You look like you came out of a disaster _I Love Lucy_ episode-"

"I'm back!"

"_Hey_!" The Smith's smiled and cooed at Alex as he sat down. The brewpub began filling with people, Madeline mentally hissed at the large crowds.

"So, Madeline…" Alex leaned in a hushed tone causing the other two siblings to lean in, "Don't look, but there's this guy asking about you at the bar-"

Immediately Madeline's head started jerking and shifting in all directions.

"God dammit, Madeline!" Michael chastised as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to stay in place.

"He said that he knew you both when you were young, that he's just moved back home…" Alex continued waiting for her memory to jog, "He said he used to stand up for you when Danny bulled you during recess in elementary school-"

Sitting up quickly, Madeline's face softened. She'd remember him any day. "_David_."

"Oh my gosh," Michael remembered him as well, "_David._ He had braces and that horrible monk haircut."

"Did he?" Alex mused, "Well, he certainly looks different now if that was the case…"

"Where is he?" Madeline asked curiously.

"Turn around…"

This time, Madeline did so slowly. As she looked behind her the crowd parted to show none other than David Bick perched against the bar counter smiling her way and boy did he look _different._ His dirty blonde hair was perfectly combed back, his brown eyes perfect and dark, his jawline defined by the incredible amount of weight he must have lost since his family moved when they were kids. It took Madeline a moment to remember she had to breathe.

"Holy mother of all that is holy…" Michael cooed breathlessly.

"Go talk to him!" Alex urged, but Madeline could only smile at the man who was only a shadow of the boy he once was.

He looked so different. And she would never forget the 7 year old him pushing Danny into the mud after Danny had pulled her pigtails and called her fat. _"So!" _David had yelled back at Danny, _"I'm fat too, you wanna do something about it?" _

Not too long after had him and his family moved away allowing Madeline to learn to stick up for herself… and get into shape to distance herself from her childhood obesity and being pre-diabetic. And while it was known what happened to Danny- his disastrous engagement to Madeline, and to where he is now which was in California with a new wife and apparently a six digit income. But David Bick, no one had known what had happened to him- and there he was back in town out of no where looking disturbingly attractive.

He smiled at her from the bar and raised his drink, Madeline felt her cheeks blush and on two shaky legs- even if only for curiosity and a thank you she never had the chance to say- she walked up to him.

"My goodness…" Apparently, even his voice had dropped three octaves, "Madeline Smith, is that you?"

"David Bick." Madeline smiled, "Hel-Hi-hey." She settled on the latter, shifting from one leg to the other, pulling her hair behind her ear, suddenly wishing she'd listened to Michael and fixed herself up a bit before going out.

"No, look at you," David chuckled. "Prima ballerina in Boulder, huh?"

"Yeah I um, just moved back from London." Madeline bit her lip, she didn't know why she felt a strange twist in her belly when she told him that. She felt strange telling him, as if it was like telling him about a whole other life she didn't recognize anymore, a life she had to abandon. She was desperate to change the subject. "What have you been up to these past 20 years, huh?"

"Well, after we moved to Florida, my parents got divorced."

"Well, what else are you going to do in Florida?" Madeline joked weakly, but it gained a full laugh from David. Even his chuckle was contagious.

"Yeah so then I wanted to move away, went to college at NYU, graduated, moved to D.C. with a woman I _thought _was the one, turns out she felt other men were more interesting than matrimony, so I decided to move back here. Help fix up our little town."

"Oh so what do you do?"

"I'm an investor… business owner." He tried to explain shyly. "I invest in failing businesses, fix then up, and then sell them."

"Oh…" Madeline took in the quality of his outfit, "So you're like… rich then?"

"Uhm-" David starting laughing, and began laughing even harder as he watched as Madeline realized how inappropriate her question was as she blushed and slapped her hand against her forehead.

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, really, sometimes I just let my mouth get ahead of my brain."

"So you haven't changed all that much then?" David smiled fondly, his brown eyes making her heart pound harder as she stared into his.

"Um… no." Madeline blushed, "I supposed not."

"Oh hey…" David said after a moment of silence, after taking a drink of his beer, he turned to her solemnly, "When I got to NYU, I heard your parents died…" Madeline looked at him wide-eyed. "I'm so sorry. For you and for Michael. I heard you had to give up ballet school and everything, and that Michael went into rehab…"

"Boy, are people still talking about all of that?" Madeline teased softly looking down.

"I'm so sorry all of that happened to you, Maddie."

Shifting, and biting her lip, allowing him to use the nickname he once used for her along with her parents, Madeline responded, "Thank you."

It had been so long since anyone had recognized her hardships. Even Sherlock had never been sensitive enough to-

Madeline shook her head to clear her mind. She didn't want her thoughts to head there.

David had always been a big hearted creature- much like her. They'd always had so much in common as children, and it seemed not much has changed.

"Yes, well," Madeline cleared her throat with a little smile, looking back at him, "My brother and his husband own this café on-"

"Main street, yeah I saw it." David smirked, "Was one of the few places that was running itself to full potential. The artwork on the walls, is that yours?"

"Yeah well, It's more of a hobby. Tried to make it a job but I just found it fed more as an extracurricular."

"Hm, ballet was your calling then?"

"Always was."

"Incredibly how much things change, huh?"

"I suppose."

"But then other things remain exactly the same."

"That's true."

The crowd at the brewpub doubled, barely leaving any place to stand or walk- but neither noticed.

"Listen… I don't want to be forward but-"

"I'd love to." Madeline said quickly as she watched the shyness creep up on him, to which David let out a relieved breath.

"Saturday good?"

"Well, Cupcake Wars is going to be on…"

David laughed again, and Madeline smiled quickly at realizing _he_ didn't realize she was being serious.

* * *

It wasn't too long before Saturday would come. Michael and Alex couldn't stop talking about David who was the talk of the rest of the town as well… his renovations had done quite a number on the once dwindling town. Everything it seemed was being rebuilt and all for the better. …What was also the talk of the town was the rumour of Madeline and David going out on a date after having hit it off at the brewpub… but none of them knew of the even bigger drama Madeline had left behind. And ever since meeting David, his presence that made her nervous and blush forced her to finally reflect on the life she left behind, on the man she left behind.

David was, quite fortunately (and unfortunately), the exact opposite of Sherlock Holmes. He was kind, understanding, a good listener, and aware of other people's feelings without having being told what they were. He was the kind of man that Madeline wasn't worried about having her dissect a heart on their first date.

So that night when David took Madeline to dinner and ice cream, she was unaccustomed to the calm smoothly flowing date.

"How's that ice-cream?" he smiled, watching as Madeline took a bite out of her three scoop waffle cone as they sat on a bench outside the shop.

"Is good." Madeline hummed. It hit just the spot with her period having just come- and the date was a good distraction from her thoughts which made no clear intention of stopping their reflection of her life with Sherlock Holmes and the games they played. Her menstrual cycle was an especially fun one.

Madeline knew he'd been keeping track of her cycle in 221b the second time around she had moved back in- but what Sherlock Holmes didn't know is he was being played. Madeline had put tampon wrappings in the trash on the wrong days and on the days that it was actually her period- she would make sure to switch them out at the studio. It wasn't for any means to an end really- just another way to mess with Sherlock. He thought he was so clever keeping track of her lady-times on a 'hidden' calendar he kept in the lowest kitchen drawer in order to predict her upcoming cycle. Madeline thought it was incredibly cute how when he thought she was on it how kind he would be to her and agreeable- mostly just ignorantly fearful of her hormones.

After they became a couple, there were times after his case that he'd have a poorly made cup of tea waiting for her when she would return from studio. And when they would fall asleep he'd leave one hand on her lower stomach, she didn't know what he'd been trying to accomplish- maybe he thought the heat from his hand would elevate the pain- regardless, Madeline loved it. She even didn't mind when she'd wake up in the middle of the night and find Sherlock's ear pressed against her stomach with a stethoscope and a notepad, apparently trying to study if her period made any abnormal noises, to which she would just giggle and run her fingers through his hair, which would upset him for two reasons- firstly he would declare he was conducting a serious study and he didn't need her childish giggles ruining his findings; the second thing was that her fingers in his hair were far too distracting for him to continue his study. But she wouldn't listen, and more than once her hands through his hair would force him into a slumber against her stomach, stethoscope still in his ears, notepad in his hand, eyes closed and mouth open as he'd sleep against her warm flesh and she would admire how young and childlike he would look in his sleep.

Suddenly, like a dreaded monster, the nostalgia hit her hard. The pain of nostalgia was perhaps the worst feeling one could experience because there is no where to relive the past, there is no way to chase it, approach it, change it, experience it again. It would stay where it was, in her past. And it wasn't in Madeline's present, and it wasn't going to be in her short future.

And there Madeline sat on the bench, her ice cream forgotten and melted on the ground, her back hunched over, and her mind lost.

"Madeline? …Maddie?"

"Huh?"

Madeline looked at him with wide eyes and ice cream dried on her chin.

"Oh um…" David smiled pointing to his own chin, "You've got some…"

"oh!" Madeline quickly began wiping at her chin.

"Where were you just now?"

"Sorry?"

"Where were you, you know- just now."

"Oh, um, nothing I was just thinking…"

"I don't mean to be intrusive…" David began hesitantly, his cheeks dimpling as he bit his lip, "But I'm guessing you just came out of a serious relationship?"

Madeline nearly snorted rather unattractively, "Serious? For me, yeah. For him, in a way, yes…"

"Bad breakup?"

"…You could say that, in a way, yes." Madeline decided it would be easier for him to know that rather than being told that she and him had never wanted it to end at all.

"Mm," David nodded his head, "Mean guy?"

Madeline bit her lip, hiding her smile, her eyes glossing over as she looked out to the dark Colorado skyline. "The meanest, most arrogant, smart ass man who has the affectionate capacity of a bean and 4 year old child all at the same time."

David sighed, Madeline looked up at him seeing his displeased face, almost happy he didn't hear the longing and love in her voice when she spoke about Sherlock Holmes. "Boy Maddie, that's someone you certainly didn't need."

And as much as his well-meaning comment caught her off guard, his next move did even more. Madeline's eyes were wide as she felt his lips against hers.

_Hm, interesting._ Madeline thought as he pulled away. There wasn't quite a spark there, but there was something- a connection of some sorts. When David smiled at her, Madeline returned it shyly.

"…I'm nothing like that- like him. Whoever he was." David said grabbing her hand, looking into her eyes with certainty as he tried to reassure her.

Nodding her head, Madeline looked down for a moment before reaching his eye line again, "I know."

Madeline knew there was only one Sherlock Holmes- only one beast. And David wasn't him, not even in the least bit. Madeline knew she'd led David to believe the last man she was with had been all of those things- arrogant, annoying, a smart ass- mainly because he was, but she never let on that she loved every bit of the man she'd been with, and still loved him.

_It's easier this way. _

Madeline knew that as well.

So as she tucked herself under David's arm that wrapped around her shoulder, Madeline allowed him to think he was her savior. There was no way she could move forward with full honesty. There were things David would have to know- her impending doom one of them, but her past was no matter for him. And as they would move forward in her relationship Madeline was certain she would have to leave her past just there- in her past.

* * *

**I'm... sorry? **

**Commentssss!**


	4. To Move On

**Work has taken over my life... yet again. So much so I haven't even had the mind to send this next chapter to a beta to get back in time so unfortunately I had to quick edit it over the course of about 3 minutes- so, apologies. **

**I really hope you enjoy and please do leave comments! Even though I don't always have the time to list you all off**** I love reading them.**

* * *

Madeline, in that very moment, could not have been more happy- and it was with the most absurd reasoning ever. If anyone would have told Madeline Smith 4 months ago that she would scream and yell and jump into that man's arms at the sight of him- she would have walked away slowly because clearly they would have to be under some sort of drug influence to believe Madeline Smith would be ecstatic to see Mycroft Holmes standing at her front porch.

But there he was.

With a loud squeal and a dropping of her ballet slipper and hammer, Madeline ran across the porch and jumped across the stairs forcing her limbs to wrap around a rather uncomfortable looking Mycroft Holmes.

"Miss _Smith_-" he hissed, arms out to the side, umbrella in hand; but Madeline had no intention of letting go until he acknowledged her. With two pats on her back, Madeline finally released.

"Oh my gosh I can't believe it's you!" Madeline exclaimed, "and more importantly I can't believe I'm happy to see you."

"Yes, well," Mycroft grimaced, "Life out here in the country must not be up to par if the sight of _me _makes you happy."

"Yeah, I must be really depressed." Madeline nodded knowingly with a sigh, "Want to come in for some coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee."

"Tea?"

"Your tea is appalling-"

"Fine, want to come in if I promise not to feed you anything?"

Mycroft smiled coolly, "Gladly."

* * *

As he sat in the kitchen at the wooden table and matching chair, Mycroft looked around distastefully before his eyes settled on a glass of water Madeline placed before him.

"Water doesn't count, I can't control that." She said logically taking a seat in front of him. "So, to what do I owe this pleasurable-displeasure? Bad news? Good news? They've come here to kill me sooner?"

"And would that fall under bad news or good news?"

Madeline shrugged hoping to change the situation drastically- the last person she wanted a mini therapy session with was Mycroft Holmes. And by his wicked and highly interested glances, he'd already deduced too much about her and her changes since coming back to Colorado.

"I met someone!" She said with cheer.

"Yes…" He drawled, twirling his umbrella- although she didn't really know why he brought it to Louisville in the summer, there really was no chance of rain. "David. So I heard."

"Or so you were informed."

He smiled, "All these months apart, and yet I never missed your sass."

"Well, you must have missed something."

"I'm here on an errand."

"Well, pretty sure it's not to catch up with me."

The file under Mycroft's arm was dropped on the table between them. It was sealed with the word '_private.'_

"What's this?"

"What do you think?" Mycroft replied with a tilt of his head, silently instructing her to open it. "I already took a look at it…" Mycroft watched as Madeline looked through David Bick's file.

"Oh my gosh, it even says he has three stitches on his left knee from a baseball injury when he was 13."

"We were very _thorough._"

Madeline raised her eyebrows and closed the file, "Yeah, I can tell."

"So thorough, it even raised a few eyebrows as to why we were investigating such a small man in this world who's biggest crime is a parking ticket when he was 21, with such vigilance and detail."

"And what did you tell them?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes at the woman as she smiled at him, clearly teasing him, wanting to hear if he told them the sentiment of his actions. "He's clean. That's all you need to know."

"Okay…" Madeline nodded, handing him the file. "I'm not surprised."

"He paid that parking ticket, by the way."

"Oh thank god!" She said sarcastically.

"You _could _be more grateful."

"Well, I'm not so surprised, I mean…" Madeline shrugged and looked down at her bitten nail tips, "I would have liked Sherlock to come down himself to tell me this or give me this information, but I understand why not, I mean it's the same reason why we haven't texted or called or ema-"

"Quite. Sherlock couldn't handle your death in front of him." Madeline looked at Mycroft with shock, "I'm not an idiot, even I know the emotions of people. What you did was the right thing for Sherlock, you perhaps saved his own life from keeping him out of the ending of yours."

"Yes, well," Madeline took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears she knew Mycroft didn't want to see. "I'm just glad he's at least keeping an eye on me." She snorted.

"This wasn't Sherlock." Mycroft quipped quickly; an inevitable flash of surprise and sadness came across Madeline's face as she realized what he said. "This was my own doing. …He doesn't know about David, I think it's best we keep it that way."

Biting her bottom lip, Madeline nodded silently. She'd drawn her conclusion too quickly and suddenly, even with his brother sitting across from her, Madeline had never felt so far from Sherlock Holmes. They were officially disconnected, not even a thread between them.

"…So you see, this was _my _search. _MY _flying over here to this… _town_." He pushed.

Madeline sat silent for a moment before realizing what he was after, "Oh! Right, thank you, Mycroft. For the leg work I know you so hate."

He smiled coolly, "Why thank you."  
"Does this mean you care about me?" Madeline smiled lightly with a twinkle in her eye, giggling as he rolled his eyes with a sigh, "Come on… admit it."

"I may have… grown _accustomed _to your presence from time to time, but I'm sure it's because it made my brother more tolerable."

"Keep telling yourself that." Madeline teased with a wide smile.

"That and your history of dating men that end up being the bad guys-"

"That was _one _time!" Madeline exclaimed pointing at him, "You're thinking of Molly Hooper."

"Regardless, there is no harm in David Bick. I am sure of it. …So, when are the wedding bells?"

"Excuse me?"

"You and him have been seeing each other for 2 months now…"

"Yeah…"

"Not serious yet?"

"Um, ew." Madeline grimaced, "If you're talking about sex, we're not talking about it. This conversation is over."

"I'll take that as a no."

"aaaand subject change!"

"Friendly reminder you're running out of time." Mycroft stood up, buttoning his jacket.

"I know," Madeline sighed standing up along with him, "Impending death and doom… blah blah blah."

"May I suggest therapy?"

"I have about a year and a half left, max, I'm not going to spend any of it in a therapists chair."

Madeline walked Mycroft to the front door and she waited awkwardly not knowing what they would do, "Could you stay?" She commented suddenly, making him raise an eyebrow in surprise, "I mean, just for a little?"

Mycroft waited a moment, letting the shock walk over him before being back to his cool self, ""I'm afraid I can't. Urgent meeting, client waiting with bated breath. Regardless, you have a date tonight."

"Wow," Madeline shook her head as they walked down the porch where Anthea waited by the black car, "You even know what I had for breakfast today, don't you-"

"French toast with horribly artificial maple syrup and powdered sugar," Mycroft smiled cockily, "Anything else?"

Madeline looked up at the tall cold man, his arrogance and know-it-all attitude causing great nostalgia in her for the other Holmes. She hated he had to leave, which was beyond strange considering who it was. She couldn't help it- the loneliness consumed her. Who'd have known the end of her life would be so tragic- not from death, but from the people she had to let go of before it.

Standing on her tippy toes, Madeline wrapped her arms around the stiff man and laid her cheek against his collar. She knew any message she'd send to Sherlock would only make it worse by the fact that he wouldn't respond to it.

Mycroft looked down at her with wide eyes before his head turned to make sure no one other than a chuckling Anthea was watching.

"That's enough there." Mycroft said, giving her a pat on the back, fixing his suit jacket once she was off. He knew he was the closest thing she had to Sherlock, so he took her hug in stride all while disliking the close proximity.

Placing a kiss on his cheek, much more to his surprise, a tear dripped down Madeline's cheek. "Go on then, get out of here then." She smiled sadly.

Madeline watched as Mycroft walked to his car, Anthea getting in before him, but as he was about to go in he stopped himself and turned around to face Madeline and said words that would ring in Madeline's head like a sad poem for the rest of her days.

"I see why my brother fell in love with you. You were good for him, Miss Smith. And had things been different… I would have been pleased to call you my sister-in-law."

Madeline was speechless, but her voice picked up a moment after, "Even if things were different, Sherlock would never marry me."

Mycroft smirked, "...Wouldn't he?"

Madeline watched silently as Mycroft entered his car and his driver drove off, the dusty air dirtying her hair. But she could care less. The ache in her heart made her knees weak.

* * *

"Madeline… Madeline… Madeline?"

Finally she looked up at him. The credits were rolling on the screen in his living room, next to her David stared at her with concern as he shut off the tv.

"Huh? Oh, sorry." Madeline smiled with her mouth closed, "I was dozing off…"

"With your eyes open?"

Madeline looked up trying to think of a better excuse, but she was already nodding, "yup."

"Madeline, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"The whole movie you weren't even paying attention, you were just looking away far off- and I _know _something's wrong cause _Princess Bride_ has been one of your favourite films since we were kids."

"Well, I'm just tired-"

"Not just tonight, Maddie." David sighed impatiently, "Be honest with me… what are you hiding?"

Madeline knew she would- and probably should never tell him about Sherlock and the details even if that stupid detective still managed to consume her entirely. But David was a good man and he was right, there were things he deserved to know. Madeline could tell from the way he was beginning to look at her that he was very much falling in love; and with each look he gave her she appreciated him more and more. He was someone who cared about her, who asked her how she felt, who listened to her after a long day at the studio. He deserved to know where his future with her was headed, and where it would end.

"Well… I don't know how to say this." Madeline began hesitantly, picking at her fingernails. Michael sat back against the arm of the couch and looked at her seriously, readying himself for what was to come. "Basically… I only have about a year and a half left… ballpark."

"…Of _what _exactly?"

"Of…life."

David's mouth hung open in shock as he digested the information, Madeline looked up at him with her big brown eyes and he could see the worry in them that he would ask more questions- but even Madeline must have realized that her sudden bomb of a comment would need an explanation.

"I can't tell you why, exactly-"

"Are you terminally ill, or something?"

"well…" Madeline's eyes perked as she gave it some thought, "Sort of, in a way. I'm not going to deteriorate or whatever but- it's just going to happen. And it _will _happen. So…" looking away, nervously she began scratching her neck, "I don't think it's fair for you to not know as we go further in this."

David still hadn't spoken, the astonishment still present as the colour was still drained from his face. "I… But… you're so _young._"

"Well, we're the same age-"

"Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, but, you know…" She shrugged sadly, "Believe you me, I'd give anything to turn my fate around and be given all the time in the world…" Madeline looked down and spoke softly lost in her thoughts, "Everything would be so different."

Placing his fingers on her chin, David lifted her to look directly at him as he spoke softly and with understanding, "But they're not." He confirmed. "…Madeline, I still want to be with you."

"…You do?"

Chuckling with a light blush in his cheeks, "Well, yes, I mean, to be honest I have wanted to be with you since we were 4 years old sharing doughnuts and digging for worms during recess."

Madeline snorted at the memory looking down at their hands that she'd subconsciously intertwined. She remembered those hands, they used to chubby and plump and now they were long and lean, soft skin.

Looking up into his eyes, she saw him smile softly at her, a smile that much to her surprise, made her stomach do a little flip. Perhaps the romance wasn't as one sided as she'd led herself to believe- too quick to judge her own emotions.

"If it helps, I used to have a crush on you too." Madeline admitted.

"Is that so?…" David rumbled devilishly, pushing her long hair behind her shoulder leaning in.

"Yes. And… to be honest, when I saw you at the pub, I was happy to see you."

"Well that's good…" he whispered leaning down, tilting her chin up, "Because if I'm going to be honest, I only came back when I heard you had."

"You did? But I'm so-"

"Business ventures here aren't the most exciting, but..."

Madeline took a deep breath, "but what?"

"Regardless of what you think, you're not dull, and you're worth every minute I have left with you- I don't care how many there are- I want them."

And before Madeline could even say a word, David kissed her smile. And then- even before either could comprehend- Madeline was laying beneath David on the couch, dress hiked, and hands wandering over her olive-toned thighs. As David's kisses trailed down her neck, Madeline's eyes shot open as she felt his bulge lying against her hip-bone. It had been a while for her but she knew precisely where this was headed, and it was headed in a direction Madeline had to find out if she was ready for because it certainly would put the last nail into the coffin of her and Sherlock- a relationship that her foolish heart hadn't the strength to throw away even if the rest of the world told her to.

But now- as she felt David's kisses grow more urgent and heated- with such a great man on top of her, as she wrapped her arms around his neck Madeline's logical side (in its rare form) kicked-in. It was time to move on. And there was no better person other than David to do that with.

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*******Rings bell* Only one more chapter left in this part! **


	5. Control Remove Forget Renew

**Hello everyone! Its been a while, I know. I got another assignment/project for work and its literally taken over my life these past 2 weeks. I'm finalizing it now so I CAN WRITE THIS NOW! Finally! **

**This is a shorter one and also the last chapter of part 6. **

**HOWEVER- I WILL NOT BE OPENING A NEW STORY FOR PART 7- I will be basically making this 'story' part 6 and part 7 so the title will have part 7 added onto it. It just makes it easier I think since I can fit both of the titles in one anyways haha. **

**Thank you all so much for being so patient. It means a lot to me for those messages I got that when I have life take over and it takes me a little bit longer to post that you're all still so excited. Bless. **

**This is for you- btw this chapter is unbeta'd. Sorry for any mistakes. **

* * *

"So… next case?"

Sherlock groaned as he sat across from John. They had just completed their fifth case in a row. News had gotten back to John through Madeline that she'd met someone new- and that it was serious. And since knowing that and having been assured that Sherlock had no idea- John had taken it upon himself to run Sherlock from case to case to ensure he wouldn't find out. It was unrealistic that John could keep Sherlock preoccupied for such a long period of time- but by God he would try.

"John…" Sherlock started, lifting his hand to massage the bridge of his nose. "We just spent the last 4 hours looking for a girls kitten. That- does not a case make."

"Well I just thought it seemed like an urgent email- " John tried to sell, but it wasn't working.

"Don't you have a _wife _to get to?"

John sat trying to think of another thing- anything. "Cluedo?"

Sherlock's eyes began to burn into John's curiously- clearly if John was suggesting cluedo- he would be at the end of his rope at attempting to prove something. John's heart began to beat quicker- he could see right through him, couldn't he? This was it- he was going to find out that Madeline had found someone else and he would lose it- Sherlock would relapse and everything would never be the same again.

"…Problems with Mary?"

"Uh-" John let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding, "Yeah, yep. You know, just… she's… sleeping on my side of the bed. And… other things."

"Well I suggest you leave me alone and go fix it. …Regardless I can already tell you she's right."

"But-"

"She's right."

"But what if-"

"She's. Right." Sherlock pushed, pointing towards the door, "Now go." It seemed John had no choice, but was rather confused when he saw Sherlock roll his eyes- the sound of the voice at the door let John know precisely why.

"Yes, do." John turned to find Mycroft standing against the door frame, "I'd like a moment with my brother, if you don't mind. "

"I… oh alright." John sighed standing up stretching his back, he had been beyond exhausted and felt at least there was someone else to keep track of Sherlock for him.

"Send my regard's to Mary."

John turned slowly to look at Mycroft, shocked by his words. "You're mocking me aren't you?"

"No, I'd never mock marriage." Mycroft replied sarcastically.

With a sigh, John simply turned around and left, "I don't even have the energy for this right now. …Bloody Holmes'."

Once the door was shut, Mycroft then began to twirl his umbrella casually, "He's been keeping a close eye on you. He must be genuinely exhausted from running around to believe you'd so wrongly deduce his motive."

Sherlock shrugged, "I don't want to kill his clever feeling."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, sitting in a chair. "Feeling sentimental, are we brother?"

"Just want to keep things _simple._ …Speaking of which- how was Colorado?"

With a grand roll of his eyes, Mycroft scoffed, "Christ why do I do these things for you. Never _again _will I go to the states willingly. I'm still wondering why I went in the first place-"

"Because I _asked _you to. You know very well that I couldn't go… not that I wanted to- to see that small business buffoon-"

"I didn't meet him, I only met with Madeline. …Wanted to minimize the human contact in that small town. "

Looking down at his lap, Sherlock placed his hands beneath his chin, "…Did she think it was me?"

"Assumed. Assumed it was you. But don't you worry, I set her straight just as you asked. Surprisingly I agree it's best she think it was me-"

"So he checks out?"

"You saw the file yourself-"

"For her, I mean. …How was she?" Sherlock dreaded asking his brother this question just as much as he dreaded the response of it.

"…Fine. Lonely, but fine." Mycroft cleared his throat, "That being said- will you be conquering other romances then, dear brother?"

"No. You know very well I'm not one for relationships."

"So she was the exception then?"

"Not even an exception in some stupid romantic-relationship-stereotype-ideal- she was… the only in her own right."

"Well then, I suppose it's back to as before then? You, alone."

"I have John" Sherlock snapped defensively.

"Yes, and John has Mary."

"I'm sorry- are you here to help?"

"I'm only attempting to see your reactions, dear brother, for when the true heartache of letting Madeline go settles in once she's married to that small town simpleton."

"He hasn't proposed."

"Oh no, but he will soon, I gather."

Mycroft watched in that moment as Sherlock clutched his jaw and took a deep breath, his lip twitching.

"…and she'll say yes." Mycroft added with certainty. "This is what you wanted, what she needed, and he's not a criminal or serial killer- so out of the scenario you're both in, this is the next best bet, is it not?"

Sherlock could barely not his head, he was feeling more emotion than he wished to convey in front of Mycroft, so with a flicker of his wrist and an insult about his weight that Sherlock didn't even know how he put it together- Mycroft was out of 221b leaving Sherlock to his own devices. But he left him with one piece of advice that Sherlock found himself repeating in his mind as he sat and stewed in the loss of the one girl that had actually managed to get through him.

_"Don't be a fool and relapse, Sherlock. Then your separation at her end would have been all for nothing." _

Even though Sherlock very every urge, every addiction bubbling up through his veins and hitting him like an attack, urging him to numb. His legs bounced and his fingers twitched- it wasn't long until he realized just how many hours had passed while he'd been sitting there- stewing in his own addiction and pain.

There was only one answer, one conclusion to come to-

He had to delete Madeline _entirely _from his life. And if possible- as well as he could from his mind palace.

Sherlock had been smart when he'd kept contact with the homeless network in Colorado- they'd kept an eye on Madeline and if possible- would help keep her alive for a few extra weeks once the time would come. And when they had sent him the pictures of Madeline out and holding hands with this _David_ character (_'stupid name' _Sherlock immediately concluded), he knew this was going to happen- but he hadn't prepared himself for it.

John's attempts at keeping him company and assuming he didn't know were well placed and very much like the doctor who had a worried glint in his eye whenever he thought Sherlock wouldn't notice. It was very much like John Watson to be able to have his emotions read like a book.

And that in itself- Sherlock seeing John's worry and care, was enough to keep Sherlock sane for a few weeks until he demanded Mycroft go and finish it.

With a quick move and turn- Sherlock stood up and made his way to the fireplace trying to take the picture down- the painting she'd done of John reading.

"Oh right- Christ." Sherlock had forgotten, he'd done everything but nearly wielded it to the wall.

After grabbing his crow-bar, and 20 solid minutes of detaching it from the wall- he was successful. The only reminder of the painting ever having been there was the light grey rectangle which he quickly replaced with the mirror that was once there.

And the painting was just the beginning- everything of hers, even her pillow cover, her paint set, the hole in the ground from where he shot the floor ( which he would fillin)- he was on a mission.

Sherlock would get rid of Madeline Smith from the flat and from his life- Officially.

* * *

**FIN. (Part 6)**


	6. To Get Through

**Hello All! Just a head up, there will be something a little different in this chapter- POV's. It'll be done in this part and a few others. …It's time to get a little insight into their minds.**

**This is the beginning of PART 7. Accompanying materials in my profile :)****No poster yet though, if someone wants to make one that would be great! It's very separatist-centric. And you can get a feel of the part through the song in the title. The model I use for Madeline is named Loulou Robert. Make a poster and if I pick it you may very well get your own personal request fix written by moi! **

**Un-betaed again so mistakes are mine. I got really anxious to post this chapter. Thank you to sailormajinmoon, Gwilwillith, HC, LibraryLover, Guest, ijusthaveablogger, and tantofazseila for your comments!**

* * *

**1 Month Later.**

The engagement party had gone by quicker for Madeline Smith than it had for anyone in London. While her friends there had been invited- of course non had made the trip to Colorado. She expected that as she was certain every eye would be on Sherlock Holmes across the pond on that sunny Sunday. Was it strange that _that _had been the thought in her head as people came to tell her congratulations at the end of David's brother's toast…

* * *

**London.**

Sherlock's coat flew behind him as he pushed the doors open to Bart's on a mission. Greg and John had annoyingly kept him occupied from the crack of dawn- no one even pretends anymore. They all know they're keeping an eye on him for this particular day.

Sure- the first thing Sherlock had felt when he woke up knowing that this was the day Madeline would be celebrating her engagement at a dull, typical, traditional and useless engagement party- was to jump off another building without a landing bed at the bottom- but he endured. He managed. ….and Mrs. Hudson hadn't stopped baking him annoying little mini-foods all day.

So when he got a text from Molly to come to Bart's right away- Sherlock had found relief after pretending to enjoy a game of football on the telly with John and Lestrade for far too long. A text from Molly only meant one thing-

New dead body.

"Oh! Sherlock." She smiled brightly, her large glasses covering her face as she moved a tray of metal tools from one table to another. But once she saw Sherlock's face of seriousness hers dropped- he must have misunderstood what she meant in her text.

"Alright then, where is it?"

"S-sorry?"

Sherlock took a moment to look at her as if she should already know, "The body. You texted."

"Oh, right. Well, I didn't say _body _but-"

"So what am I here for then?"

"Well-" Molly took a deep breath and placed a smile on her face. "I was wondering if you'd like to get that coffee?"

* * *

**20 minutes later at the coffee shop.**

Molly blew into her hot chocolate, closing her eyes and humming as she sipped from it- not noticing that Sherlock, who was sitting across from her stirring his own coffee, was staring at her as he mixed. Finally she looked up and blushed as she realized she was humming.

"Sorry."

"Don't do that." Sherlock quickly said as he clinked his spoon against his cup and set it down before sipping.

"Do what?"  
"Apologize for nothing."

"Oh- Sor-, I mean… yeah. Okay. As long as you do something for me."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Sherlock."

"All John and Lestrade want to do is watch sports on the telly and all Mary wants to do is go hunting- that's their way of occupying me. Your choice of coffee was just fine until you clearly have some sort of sentimental request from me-"

"Well, I wouldn't say sentimental-"

"It is _you_ asking, I don't have my hopes up." Sherlock sipped from his coffee casually.

"Well, all I'm saying is- you can talk to me, Sherlock-"

"_Oh god-_" Sherlock sighed with a roll of his eyes, "Perhaps contrary to other's opinions, did it ever occur to anyone that perhaps I am relieved that Madeline Smith- the thorn in my shoe, and most frustrating and not-to-mention _annoying_ case of my whole career is finally out of my hands and no longer my problem in every way- not just professionally, but personally?"

Molly paused for a moment, considering Sherlock's words seriously.

"Yeah, no one's going to believe that."

Letting out a breath of air with a roll of his eyes, Sherlock sat back in his chair. "What is it people want from me now, exactly?"

"Well, you know it's okay to talk about things."

"I don't want to talk about things."

"Well that's not really the point-"

"It is absolutely the point."

"No, talking about things can make dealing with them easier."

"There's nothing to deal with- it's over."

"Yeah, John told me you ransacked 221B throwing out everything she ever touched or looked at." Molly sighed sadly.

"Is John writing that in his blog now too?" Sherlock growled.

"Well, yeah, I mean… what do you expect?" Molly looked at his face, she'd never felt so sorry for the man. It wasn't pity- oh no, it was genuine compassion that she felt for Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock paused, ground his teeth and took a deep breath through his nostrils. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."

And with that- Sherlock grabbed his coffee, stood up, and left Molly Hooper to her own devices that he wanted to be no part of, walking out of the café with every intention of going home and for the first time- locking his front door.

* * *

**SHERLOCK'S POV**

This tea tastes old. Can't that foolish woman do anything? Where is she anyways?

_….I _

_...kicked her out? _

Oh yeah, that's right. Locked my bloody door. It's about time really, I don't know what all the fuss is about it's not like I'm going to kill myself.

_…That's probably why John's calling, he thinks I'm going to off myself._

Sentiment. Hopefully a quick text will shut him up.

_There we are. Now he can shut up. Not likely though. _

My chair isn't as comfy as I remember it. …I don't like my new robe.

But those are the rules- get rid of everything about that stupid girl. Everything. Took every inch in me to not cut my hair off because can't stop thinking about how she used to run her fingers through it as we slept-

_Oh shut up! _

….Christ, I'm sentimental too now.

Fuck.

A disaster. _What _a disaster. And none of it wouldn't have happened had she not walked into my life.

_…Even though technically speaking I flew to the states and brought her here- but it was her fault really for being all clever with me, and being the biggest annoyance in my existence. _

_How selfish of her. Forcing me to accommodate her in my life._

I was better off before. I didn't feel _this._-

_Nope. _

_Wrong. _

I didn't feel.

Well, a lot. Didn't feel a lot. Not too much. But then John too-

_Off topic. _

Regardless, how dare she barge into my life and not have the decency to at least be on my bad side?! Most people are. Given the fact they're all morons.

…Don't know how she did it.

And then she just had to go off and accept me.

Don't know how she did that either.

I'm broody, arrogant, don't talk for days, was perhaps the worst "boyfriend" in all of history- _Christ, that fucking term_- and there she was.

And now she's off marrying that COCK.

I'm broody, there she was.

I'm arrogant, there she was.

I'm quite acurately the worst option for her when her above average looks, annoyingly catchy personality and genuine demeanor- she can have any man she wants- and there she was.

I would never fall in love, spend my life with someone in a romantic manner as both gave me the urge to vomit quite profusely-

But there she was.

And never would I give into those _emotions _should I have them-

But there she was.

And if I did- she wouldn't die.

But she would. And she will.

_And I can't fucking watch._

And I can't give her what she wants.

Should she leave anything behind- even if just the memory of her and seeing in that moment there was nothing I could do I would-

_….No need for dwelling. No question now._

She's marrying that man.

Good for her.

I'm happy for them.

He's a good person. Better than myself on paper. Yes.

….Good. This is not bad. This is a good sign.

And John thought I would be upset? No. Absolutely not.

I'm happy she's marrying a small businessman in all of his mediocrity, tacky one-liners and receding hair-line.

See? There we are. I'm fine with David.

That's his name right? David?

_Stupid fucking name if you ask me. _

I really do hope they have a happy marriage and if someone were to accidentally poison his goblet of cheap wine during the wedding- I would not be apposed to that either.

It's just like Mycroft to bring up marriage to annoy me.

_Christ I hope those love handles he's been gaining make it hard for him to fit in his chair again._

Would I marry her? A lifetime with Madeline Smith- _Holmes_- **NOPE**. No. She's too annoying.

_Christ she's annoying._

With her humming and her eating and her dancing everywhere with her pink frilly messes of clothes.

Atrocious mess…

Yes, even regardless of her eminent death, this would have never worked.

Simply ended early without the semantics and dramatics along the way-

My emotion and weakness for her stupid antics and wide smile and stupid **STUPID** brown doe eyes _would_ have run out eventually. Of course.

And that stupid laugh. Christ I can still hear it. So annoying. I wish she would just stop. Yes, she should just stop. I erased her from the flat- it's only a matter of time before my mind palace catches up.

She's up there running around, dancing in each room like she owns the bloody place. Smiling like she doesn't have a care in the world. Making me feel guilty for every hurtful thing I've said since she's left- which has been a record lot.

Suppose that's what married life would be like- if there would have been one-

_STOP. _

There is no life to that story. _Married life?_ How mediocre. How… _mum and dad_.

Her metabolism would eventually slow down after she would retire from dancing and most likely move on to teaching- but her appetite would simply grow and her hips would get wider, her belly softer, her bum bigger, and her skin smoother as I would wrinkle bit by bit with grey hairs growing and then soon I'd need glasses and I would start collecting something silly to pass time between cases –

_I said STOP. _

That is not a future.

She has no future.

By this time in a few more months in next year- hers will be over. And she'll have experienced a life within that time-

_Who the hell is banging on the door like that? _

_Oh, it's probably John. …I'll leave him standing for a bit more, really build up the anticipation… after all, he hid his invitation from me like a dunce as if I would already know just by reading his face like a bloody short story. _

Next month's her wedding- of course I didn't get an invitation but that's what you get for sending _one box _full of bees to the groom- bet he didn't know it was from me. _Idiot._

Then she'll be off on her honeymoon and when they get back by then she'll barely have time to realize what a dull idiot she's married-

_Wait. _

_Christ. _

_Fucking Christ I forgot about the sex-vacation. _

_…fuck. _

At least the stupid man would have decency to not have her even after marriage. Who does he think he is? That he can just marry her and then have sex with her?

She wouldn't do it.

_…But she would be married- _

But she wouldn't.

_It has been almost 3 years for her. _

That's long, right? Of course it is. Fuck.

Can't believe I'm envious over physical pleasure.

I had her and I had the chance but the thought would be laughable for me to entertain- I've never performed while sober.

...I don't remember much about performance and what I'd "performed" exactly but I'm sure I was at least acceptable at it. She would have been just fine with me...

_Fuck. _

_Fucking christ why does the hurt run so bloody deep. _

___He shouldn't be the one to have her._

Hope he burns in the fiery pits of hell. Rotton moron.

_Me. Me. She should be with me. _

I'll watch. I'll wait for her end. I'll let her have her life-

…I'll get through this.

Oh wow, John just broke down the door.

Forgot about that.


End file.
